Inspiration
by Color With Marker
Summary: Roger learns that a famous band's lead singer kisses another man at every performance and thinks it could help him find his next song. So what if he tried it too? Pre-RENT Marker.


"Shit," Roger hissed as a string on his guitar snapped. He put it down on the couch next to him and threw his head back. He was nearly broke; how the hell was he going to replace a broken string on the lack of a budget he had? CGBG's was bare during the middle of January, meaning no good tips to go along with his crappy pay. It wasn't like his boss, Dave, cared much about Roger's paycheck.

"Dude, did another one break?" Collins asked as he tossed Roger a beer. The rockstar caught it and didn't hesitate to chug half of the can.

"Fuck, man, I'm getting screwed over here," he groaned. "I haven't been able to write a good song in a while, and the guys are getting kind of pissed at that."

His band, The Well-Hungarians, were popular in the area. There were many posters of Roger taped to the walls around the loft advertising the musician, both solo and with his band. They had been playing songs from the radio recently because of Roger's lack of influence. Or rather, because the rocker was slowly descending into the grasp of heroin to no one but April's knowledge.

"You'll find that song," Collins said with encouragement.

"Do you have something that can help me find my song?" Roger asked.

"No, but I heard this weird thing that some new band uses that helps him out at every performance. And let's just say that these guys are growing more popular by the minute," the philosopher said, a smile growing on his face. Roger knew that smile very well.

"Are you sure?" Roger asked warily.

"Well, they do have a new album that's been selling out in stores around here pretty fast..."

"How? I've been trying for years!"

"Don't laugh..." Collins ended up letting a chuckle slip from his lips. Roger was hesitant to take his friend's advice now. "The lead singer kisses another guy at every performance."

Roger choked on his beer.

"You're shitting me," he said in disbelief. "No one likes..." He stopped when Collins glared at him.

"Well, if you want to take my advice and find that song, you should pucker up to the likes of your own," Collins laughed. "I gotta go. I have an interview with some guys from MIT." Collins ruffled Roger's bleach blonde spiky hair before walking out the door.

Roger thought about what Collins said. Collins wasn't one to lie, and his words of wisdom were very helpful in the long run. It was strange advice though. Kissing another man? That wasn't who Roger Davis was. He was dating April after all. And he knew for a fact that Collins wasn't into him at all. He had many girls that longed for him in concert. A handful of guys too, which he had noticed a couple of times. But kissing a fan seemed to awkward. Kissing a band member was even worse in his opinion. He had a show in an hour; he'll just ask Dave to use his guitar that he kept in the back of the bar for tonight unless someone had extra strings for him to fix his own with. And at the moment, he was alone.

Then the door slid open. Footsteps were heard as someone entered the apartment. Roger looked to see who the person was.

Mark.

"The assholes in this city, I swear," the filmmaker murmurs under his breath. He leans his bike against the wall and looks up at Roger.

"Were you biking through the city?" the songwriter asked.

"Sadly," Mark answered. "And some guy tried to run me over! I think he chased me five blocks just for the hell of it!" Mark plopped down on the couch next to his best friend. "Why do you look depressed too?"

"Because we're hungry and frozen," Roger replied. "And I'm stuck with the band. I can't write anything, I'm breaking strings..." He shook his head. "Everything is fucked up." He thought about what Collins said again and looked at Mark, who stared at the ceiling.

"You'll figure something out," Mark said. "You're Roger Davis, the guitar-playing rockstar who makes all of the girls weak at the knees." He smirked.

"I talked to Collins about it, and he said that there's something that I should try," Roger said. He gulped. Why was he getting nervous.

"Collins usually knows what to do."

"Well... Aw, fuck it."

Roger leaned forward and kissed Mark on the lips. He meant to pull away after a few seconds. He expected Mark to sit up and give him a look that meant, "what the hell, man!"

What he didn't expect was to lean in again as Mark did and kiss him again.

This time, it wasn't just pressing lips together. Mark sucked on Roger's bottom lip, letting out a tiny whimper. Roger was the first to use his tongue, and Mark didn't hesitate to use his either. Roger put his hands on Mark's hips and pushed him onto his back. The filmmaker's hands ran through his hair. Moans of pleasure were heard around the small loft. Roger's hands slid under the fabric of Mark's sweater and against his icy bare skin. He wanted to go further.

_The show... SHIT, the show!_

Roger pulled away quickly and stood up. Mark looked confused as to why.

"I have a show in an hour," the songwriter explained quickly. "I need to get there and grab an extra string or something."

"Oh," Mark said. "Well, I'm gonna edit some film. I'll be here all night."

"I'll be back late with April."

"Have fun."

"See you later."

On his way out the door, Roger grabbed a notebook and pen along with his guitar. He found a new song now.

He had to remember to thank Collins later.


End file.
